The Phantom of Romania
by AnarchysPoet
Summary: One lonely old time Prince of Wallachina seeks out everyones favorite Angel of Music to become his eternal companion. Will Erik abuse this power, or will Vlad get tired of him as he with so many others? See the world from their sleepless eyes. Strong Language, Death, and other such adult themes will be used. Dracula and POTO belong to respective owners
1. SLOW STARTS

December, late 1800's

The streets of Paris were cold and dark on that winter night. The sky threatening a snow storm to rival Russia. A lone dark figure walked these dark streets, the lack of light making the shadows even deeper than ever before. The figure weaved through the sudden snow drifts littering the walk. The man himself was quite tall and built for the time, his tanned skin and obvious nobility a strange contrast in the pale upper-classes. But what made him even more odd in the foreign country were his almost white-blue eyes, a color that could be likened to electricity if it had been harnessed yet.

This stranger was headed directly for the famous Palais Garnier. A building under restoration due to its terrible chandelier crash and fire. Instead of walking into the still grand doors the black clad man made his way towards the rue scribe side of the historical building. Where he deftly nudged a brick with his shiny black shoe-a latch to a sliding door that reveled a hidden grate just big enough for a man of his size to fit through. Wherein he produced a small brass key roughly the size of a pinky finger, and inserted into the gates lock. Once unlocked, the man in black disappeared into the darkness once again. If anyone were on the street-there weren't but if- they would've thought it was a trick of the snow and shadows.

Below there was evidence of fire where the burning stage collapsed inward and got the items in storage in on the inferno. Ash on brick soon became stone which in turn soon became the steps and landing into a vast underground lake. A small black boat bobbed in the water which was tied onto a giant wooden nail sticking out from the stone where it was lodged. The man of shadows sighed inwardly, tilting his head forward as if the weight of the world crashed upon his broad shoulders. Slowly he paddled his way across the inky waters.

When the boat finally reached the other side of the lake the mans blue eyes were meet by a quaint little house, the coloring dull but otherwise wouldn't be out of place if you walked past it on the surface. The man tied his 'borrowed' boat onto a small dock, then proceeded to walk into the strangely located little house.

The Door was unhinged and barely standing against its frame. A small brush of the fingers sent it crashing into the small abode. Its insides were in the pinnacle of style for the present century, though everything that would've been beautiful was ripped and smashed, papers that seemed to be musical scores scattered about the room as if thrown into the air and stomped on. A few candles still held onto their flimsy flames, threatened to be consumed by the very wax it melted. A gun laid across the grand piano, most likely left behind by a mob. The man went about the house searching for its occupant he knew would be there. He followed the instincts hat weren't his own into a room filled o the ceiling with musical works and sketches of all kinds. Books scattered the floor, and a grand pipe organ dominated a whole side of the room, yet in the center a coffin sat upon a pedestal, the interior layered with massive Persian pillows and blankets Black silk curtains feel around the place of rest, yet no one was inside.

The man retreated at a leisurely place. Knowing the house inside and out without having been there. But then he found what he was looking for, in a room styled in a Louis Philippe theme, laying across a creme fainting couch was a broken and bloody figure, maxing out at 6'7'' and weighing in at a whopping 96 lbs. Was none other than the Phantom of the Opera.

"If you are here to kill me specter, Erik insists on you to hurry up, Erik's poor mother couldn't even look at him, how could such a good girl succeed?" The gravely timbre of Erik's once otherworldly voice not phasing the man in black, only saddening him.

"I am not here for your life Phantom, I am here for your soul."

"Take it, you may be able to scrape some off the walls." Erik turned on his side, away from the dark stranger who seemed to meld with it even better than Erik himself.

"I offer eternal life my friend. A chance to haunt your students dreams for many generations to come." a part of the blue eyed mans subconscious screamed at him, a part that wasn't his. Erik turned back around fully facing the man who intruded in on his house, a crime that would've been punishable by death.

"Why would Erik ever want to see 'her' again after this? Who are you?" The once Angel of Death sitting upright, ignoring the wounds inflicted by the angry mob not three days ago, his face exposed to the chilly air. A truly abhorrent sight to behold. The sunken eyes accented by kohl that was most likely used for Don Juan Triumphant. Every tendon and muscle almost visible underneath the thin skin. Also reveling the red and blue veins that transported the life within him. Amber eyes boring into bright blue. The formers owner spoke.

"I go by many names, I was born Vlad Tapes, many now know me as Dracula." the infamous phantom couldn't but help but chuckle to himself.

"Supposed that Erik didn't believe you, what then, monsieur Tapes?"

"So says a sixty year old deformed man who trapezes his way around a house of music terrorizing little ballet girls and throwing tantrums like a small child." Erik immediately stopped his laughter, and shot a glare at the vampire. "Yes, I believe we shall be great companions."

"How did you find poor unfortunate Erik?" Erik's age suddenly crashing upon himself when he found himself in the presence of something deadlier than himself, feeling as though he were back in the clutches of his gypsy master, Javert.

"I got quite hungry, and felt like something...exotic. Found a Persian of all things walking around. Their blood is incredibly sweet, but can sour fast if not drank right away, I followed him into an alley where he turned upon me, and I had a light snack. Don't look at me like that, hes strong enough to survive, another found him before I left. But viewing memories when I drink is among the numerous other things I can do. So I found you." The centuries old vampire grinned, his teeth elongating into a mouthful of razor sharp teeth, and sinking them into an unsuspecting Phantoms neck.

Erik was immediately thrown into a deep dark lake, the water infiltrating his lungs as he fought for air. He saw himself at different stages of his life, as a little boy with cloth covering his face and asking for two kisses from his mother. Almost a man working as an Architect and Assassin for the Shah and his mother. The completion of the Palais and his sentencing to death. He saw the lengths Nadir went to to protect him. He saw Reza. Christine as a little girl, and everything leading up till now.

Vladimir watched the writhing body on the ground and heard the mortal shouts and grunts become otherworldly. Erik was going to make a fine addition to the undead community.

"Don't worry love, your just dying." He whispered, turning around to leave and fetch a pretty little snack. The exchange of blood always making him feel a little off afterwards.


	2. TYING UP LOOSE ENDS

Erik woke to darkness and warmth, he vaguely thought of how nice it would feel waking up next to his Christine, almost like this. But Erik never woke up warm and happy, except now. What has changed? Erik new he was in his coffin, but it was unnaturally filled. Maybe more pillows have been added. No, it was something else entirely. Erik registered the dull pain in his neck, pain wasn't unfamiliar to him but he hurt no where else. His sprained ankle, broken ribs, mild concussion, all gone. Even the open sores on his face felt as if they've disappeared. Erik moved to open his coffin only for his skeletal hand to bump into something soft and warm, he pushed against the item and somewhere near his ear groaned low and long, like a bear being poked with a stick.

"Five more minutes." the voice said, scaring Erik shitless. The Phantom leaped from his coffin throwing open the lid, an act that proved unusually easy. Inside his own coffin of ebony laid the man from the day before. I man that even when laying looked intimidating. He wore a light pink dress shirt slightly ruffled with sleep with a dark gray vest with matching trousers and shoes. His jet black hair was tied back into a braid that ended at the base of his shoulder blades. The Vampire fixed the Phantom with a cold stare. He smiled warmly though his electric eyes would've frozen water.

"Oh darling, why don't you come back to bed?" The mocking tone was tangible. Vlad lifted himself from the coffin, much more world weary than when Erik first encountered him.

"Why are you still here?"

"Can I not stay here, friend?"

"Of course." Erik covered his mouth, and stared at his intruding and rude guest. The Vampire smiled genuinely now.

"Happy Birthday Erik." when met with a questioning glance from the skinny man he continued. "You are now a Vampire, and I am your loving and affectionate father and master, you will do anything I say, you cannot disobey my orders. You are at least thirty years younger physically, mentally you are as you will always be. Soon we shall go back home to Romania."

"WHO ARE YOU TO ORDER ERIK, MONSOUIR! HE DOES NOT BELIEVE HE AGREED TO SUCH AN ARANGEMENT" Erik boomed angry, finding himself feeling lighter on his feet, and the edges of his vision reddening in his anger. Dracula laughed merrily, clapping his long clawed hands together in utmost enjoyment.

"Don't you realize child? I am older than anything in existence, I can do whatever I'd like with you or anyone. Even your precious Christine, though she is quite plain next to my wives."

"Christine is an angel among peasants, she should have had the world on its knees."

"Yet she chose to be boned by a Viscount, who will rely on his family for funds. Who in which will cut him off for marrying his Mistress. They'll be poor and on the streets. Or maybe just her, he may just throw her to the side, even if shes pregnant."

"My ANGEL is not a mistress, she is a QUEEN." Erik retorted, his temper quickly failing him.

"AND I AM A KING!" Dracula roared. Erik knew what the vampire was insinuateing. His pride was hurt as was his ego, but something in the back of his head told his to keep quiet. It sounded like the Persian oddly enough. He took an undignified sigh catching his reflection in a small mirror that leaned upon his wall, it was cut off to where he could only see himself from the neck down as he never wanted to look at himself in earnest. His once yellow skin was as white as the parchment he wrote his musical scores on, any age spots he received during life was eliminated and all scars softened to blend with the overall skin tone. The only way to find them would be to look for them individually. His body filled out to a more acceptable size though still, unhealthy looking. The deteriorated muscle tissue repaired and strong. His immaculate dress bloodied at the neck and askew. Erik ducked to find his face not nearly as startling as it was usually. The sores that his mask left were healed, redness and inflammation completely gone, and on top of that his teeth were perfectly aligned other than the elongated canines. He still looked like a corpse, but now he looked like one worthy of an open casket. And for Erik this revelation was enough, for now. Erik turned to the vampire, who only smiled, his shark-like teeth glistening in the fading candlelight, and said again.

"Happy Birthday."

A few weeks later, Erik sat before his only mirror, memorized by his face. He was still quite ugly, and would still probably make babies and weak hearted humans cry. The Phantom placed on his mask, a black leather mask that only exposed his lower lip and chin. He wore all black today, still immaculate in dress. Erik turned to leave his once room, now stripped of coffin and pipe organ, clothes and music scores were packed away and in-route to Romania. Only one thing to do, visit the Daroga. Erik left his underground abode for the last time, his souvenirs from Christine in hand. A painful reminder of his insolence over a mortal girl. He climbed into his carriage, pulled by two large Frisians and bearing the Tapes Family crest, namely Vlad's. One Erik designed himself just a few days ago.

The Persians servant met Erik at the door, a surprised expression on his face. Nadir stood in his living room. Leaning heavily on his cane.

"MUDERER! What have you done with Monsieur DeChagny and Christine Daae?!" Yelled Nadir.

"I have come here to tell you that I am going to die." Erik put on a good show, slipping back into his original madness. Convincing the once detective that Erik was truly dying out of love for the blonde soprano. The night ended with Erik placing his souvenirs into the Daroga's hands, and instructing him to put in a notice at the Epoc. Erik climbed into his carriage and rode away. Tomorrow the Daroga will receive all of Erik's vast fortune, a little gift for all the trouble Erik has caused the only man to see past the Phantoms ghostly facade. Only now he truly was the dead walking among the living.

Erik wondered why he just let Vladimir tell him what to do, why he just let himself become a vampire. Possibly because it wouldn't have been such a big change in pace for the Phantom. He instructed his cab driver to make a stop at the DeChagny residence, which it did. Erik let the carriage ride up to the front door, and he stepped out. The family butler opened the front door and invited the once music teacher inside. The happy couple were at the dining table-Raoul at the head, Christine at his right, and the other various patrons Erik guessed were Raoul's family. It wasn't uncommon for nobility to live with their family as such.

Erik strode into the room with the air of a king and placed his long fingers on he back of Raoul's chair, as a good friend would do. Erik was far from a friend, though, only the tortured three knew that.

"My good Count, have you forgotten your meeting with me? My friend, for shame!" Erik's perfect lit illuminated the air. Christine's downcast eyes widened in fear but she did not look up. Raoul turned abruptly in his chair, his skin nearly the shade of Erik's own.

"MONSTER!" Raoul declared attempting to get up, only to be shushed by a rather stern woman, who Erik assumed was the lady of the house, the fops mother.

"Forgive my son, Monsieur. He has forgotten everything that is required of his station." she said glaring at Christine. An action that would've angered Erik, had she not chosen the fop over him. "Please take a seat and share our meal with us." Erik took the vacated seat next to Christine. The poor vixen stiffened, Her warmth only angered him further.

"What brings you here this time of night Monsieur?" Green eyes meet his in uncovered interest. The strawberry blonde teen sat next to her mother in a low cut blue gown, her porcelain neck exposed for all to see.

"I have business with your big brother and his bride darling." Erik said smoothly, incaseing the prettily blushing girl in his voice. He knew now why Vladimir told him it would be easy to obtain a snack. As long as Erik kept his eyes locked with theirs, and talked a certain way. He vaguely wondered if it had been half this easy when he was human. Erik accepted the glass of wine offered to him but didn't touch the food. After dinner the family and guests retired to the den. Erik sat between Raoul's sister and mother. His sister clinging to Erik's side not unlike the young ballet rats would do to the patrons, this made Raoul uncomfortable and grasp Christine to his side ever more, his palm firmly placed upon her stomach.

Christine was pregnant, Erik smiled 'good for her, good for me' he thought, holding the sisters's hands that grasped onto his jacket sleeve.

"What is your occupation monsieur? Surely you are more competent than my son here." Erik laughed loudly, like the bells of Notre Dame.

"I daresay I'm not of Nobility like Raoul here, but I have made quite a fortune from composing here and there." Erik smiled. the gleam of his unnaturally white teeth holding Christine's gaze. Christine nudged Raoul's side. Raoul looked to his scared wife and decided to move this conversation along. Surely Erik wouldn't come into his own home to make a scene, did he know about Christine's condition? How?

"I would love to finish this most engaging of conversations, the monsieur and I have business to attend to, Ladies?" He ushered his mother and sister out, kissing both on the cheek, and locking the door behind them. "What do you want monster?" Raoul crossed again to stand in front of his wife while watching the Phantom drink his best wine. Erik thought of why he was here, what his plan was. That was. Until he had it.

"I've come for the child of course, every monster needs a victim. Perhaps I'll just take Christine again, she seems to be the root of your familial troubles Raoul."

"DON'T YOU DARE, I WON HER FAIRLY."

"I don't think she likes being a trophy, but then again the slut doesn't have to live in a glorified whore house." Erik's amber eyes locked with Christine's blue. The blonde took a step away from her husband.

"Erik? What has gotten into you?" she said, tears making her eyes hazy. "Your not acting like my Angel anymore."

"Erik has never been an Angel" Erik's voice whispered from every corner of the room. The windows flew open causing the couple to turn. There was a sudden rain storm, one that most likely started a few moments ago. When the two finally got the large windows shut the room was empty. Only a single sentence hung in the air to haunt them.

"May I suggest Gustava."

* * *

I would like to thank **AResidentGhost** for being my first reviewer ever! *thunderous standing ovations from theaters across the world* I do hope this reader stays with me through this story and through my unladylike BS. Anyway, another big thank you!

Reviews, PMs, Favorite and Follows always appreciated.


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